Mission Status: Impossible
by zeitgeism
Summary: PostHogwarts. Some of it. Lily is a whatever you call the wizard form of a psychiatrist. In her attempts to get a patient to open up to her, she discovers that she in turn must open up and, in the process, revisit the events that have changed her life.
1. Chapter 1

Mission Status: Impossible.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Or at least- if you recognise something, then I don't own it. If you don't recognise something, then I could possibly own it. If you find something or someone that reminds you of yourself, or your best friend/dog/cat/fish/mouse/aunt /mother/father/little sister/older brother/pet elephant in the back yard/Great Uncle Albert/elderly next-door-neighbour/great-great-great-great grandmother or niece, then I'm sorry. I'm sure it is purely coincidental, unless I know them, in which case it may not be. And please, do tell me if you have a pet elephant in the backyard so that I can come and steal it. Or a crocodile. I like crocodiles. Alligators will do fine also.

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Mission Status: Impossible.  
Chapter 1- Reminiscing About a Time Gone By

I guess it never really affected me. I was young, and I didn't directly see it. I wasn't actually there; I was protected from seeing it. Sometimes now in my dreams though, I can still see their cold, lifeless faces and hear the screams that tortured my sister's childhood.

It's strange really, that I'm pitied because of something that I can't even remember.

I grew up never knowing them, never accepting them as part of my life, but still I was shocked that they never told me the truth. I was upset. I was hurt. But how do you tell a five year old kid that her parents were murdered? That they had been tortured, killed, and then raped? How do you explain to them that they were never coming back? The answer- you don't, you let her forget, you tell her when she is old enough to cope with the truth.

But was on my fifteenth birthday really the ideal time to tell me that my parents were dead, and had been since I was five? Was it really the best time to say to me that everything I had grown up with was a lie? Was it a good idea to tell me that the stone cold, lifeless figures I had said goodnight to all those years ago were covered with a sheet and makeup to protect me from seeing their battered, bruised and violated bodies? Is a fifteen year old ready to accept that type of thing? Or would it have been worse to wait? Is there any good time to tell someone that their parents were killed in such a brutal way?

Now, ten years later, I can still remember the words they said to me, the pictures they showed me, the horrific newspaper cutting they kept for that frightful night. I can still remember running out of the house screaming, screaming that it wasn't true, that they were my parents, not those bodies I saw printed in black and white, surrounded by yellowing words, reports of findings and the process of the investigation. I can remember running and running, full of hate, confusion and anger, not knowing where I was going but knowing I needed to keep going. Tears were running down my face when I finally collapsed onto the ground, exhausted.

Crouched between the tall trees, resting on them for support, my head in my hands and my sobs filling up and consuming the silence it was hardly surprising that I was not on my own for very long. The leering faces were soon peering down at me, and I could smell the alcohol on their breaths. Their bloodshot eyes bore into mine, red from crying. The stoners in the park- the druggies up the road- the alcoholic husbands who drank away their families money, abusing their wives and children at home- the young school graduates looking to have a good time- the students caught up in the wrong crowd. They were all there, off their faces, having a 'good' time that they would regret the next day. I've seen them on the streets, lying in the gutters in pools of broken glass, spilt alcohol, urine and vomit. I've seen how people avoid them, walking on the other side of the street to stay away from them as if their state is contagious. Their matted hair reaches their shoulders and their bodies are covered in dirt. They are the ones with out a home, caught in the endless downward cycle of poverty, homelessness and drugs. They are the ones corrupted by society, rejected by society, abandoned by society. They are the ones I now feel sorry for.

I see them everyday now, I work with them. But I can never get used to seeing them on the streets.

The others- the mothers and fathers of children, husbands and wives, drinking away the family income, bringing debt and shame upon the family, the children, led astray by peer pressure, with no self-control, how can you feel sorry for them? They brought it upon themselves.

I can see all this now, but as a fifteen year old I could not distinguish. I could not see the difference between the pain and the selfishness, all I saw were drunks and stoners surrounding me. Scaring me.

And so I ran.

I ran and I ran, not noticing what street I took or what houses I past. I could feel my feet pounding on the bitumen, the wind rushing past my ears and the pain tearing at my heart. It felt like a thousand sharp knives were being stabbed into me, passing through my vital organs, constricting my lungs, piercing my heart. I tripped and fell, but got back up and continued running, not noticing the blood pouring down my face and the searing pain caused by the gash above my left eyebrow.

When I could run no further I slowed down to a walk. I had a hundred thousand stitches down my side, forcing me to walk almost doubled over in pain. I fell to my knees, bent over, panting to try and catch my breath.

Forcing myself back to my feet, wiping the blood off my knees, I continued. Stumbling my way along the road I was aware of the blisters and cuts covering my feet. I focused on the physical pain I was feeling, dragging my feet along the road to cut them more and drive the gravel in further, anything to keep my mind away from the emotional pain.

I cut my hands and arms on pieces of broken glass I found along the sides of the road and trees in people yards, letting the blood flow freely. I ran at any wall I saw, trying to bruise myself.

When I finally realized that there was nothing more I could do to physically hurt myself anymore, I continued walking with my eyes fixed on my feet.

And that is how I walked, bruised, battered and bleeding, straight into the arms of James Potter.

OoO

She looked at her watch and made a final note on the page before her. She raised her eyes to look at the person sitting in front of her.

"That's the end of our session today, Jane. Your next appointment is on Tuesday at the same time. I'll see you then."

"Thanks Lily," was the only reply. Lily watched as Jane stood, steadying herself with one hand leaning on the desk, and then walked out of the room. She closed the file, walking over to the filing cabinet, replacing it and at the same time removing another one. Black letters emblazoned the cream file, reading "Emily Frank-- depression". She sighed and placed it on her desk.

There was a gentle knocking on her door, and it opened. A dark haired man, about 6 foot, with grey-green eyes walked in.

"Hey babe," said the man, walking towards Lily and sweeping her up in a hug, spinning her around.

"Not now Liam" she whispered forcefully, fidgeting to be put down. "I've asked you not to visit me at work. You're not allowed in- you'll be in trouble if you get found. We both will." Liam just shrugged.

"They already know I'm here. It's no big deal." Lily started,

"Who know?"

"You know. Those ones in the reception. They let me in. Well, she did. Catherine I think her name was."

"I should have known," she hissed, walking away. "Go. Now. I'll get in trouble." Liam pulled a face.

"What? Without a kiss? Why can't I visit my girlfriend anyway?" Lily sighed.

"Confidentiality. I've explained it before. Exactly the same reason that I cannot discuss my work with you." She spoke calmly, but in a patronizing manner, as if explaining to a difficult child that one did not eat at four o'clock in the morning simply because it was so. She walked close to him and pecked him on the lips before hurrying him to the door and pushing him out.

She returned to the file on the desk. Emily confused her. She wanted to befriend her, to help her, but for some reason she wouldn't let anyone in. She was like a 1000 piece puzzle that was begging to be solved, but there were only 50 or so pieces that could be found. Every time Lily found another piece, she held on to, think about it continually, trying to put it in place, trying to find something to link it to some other thing she already had. She had taken to taping their conversations and listening to them over and over late at night when she couldn't sleep, hoping to find something that could give her a clue as to what was going on in Emily's life. Sighing, she walked to the door and let a shaking Emily in.

"Afternoon, Emily" Lily said cheerfully. Emily nodded in return, taking her seat in silence. Still smiling brightly, Lily sat down on the other side of the desk. They stayed like that for a while. Emily eventually broke the quiet.

"My fish died last night."

"That's a pity."

"Not really. I didn't like it much." Emily was like that sometimes. Some of the things she said would come out of no where, make no sense, be completely random. It was like she was attempting to throw Lily off balance, catch her off guard, make her say something that she shouldn't. It never worked. Graduating top of her class, Lily had succeeded at everything during her training, excelling in all her studies. Entering the work force, her intelligence, diligence, work ethic and self control had catapulted her to the top of the field. It was unusual, unheard of even, for someone as young as her to hold the prestigious position that she did, but that was Lily. She always did the unthinkable.

Searching in Emily's eyes, she once again got the feeling that this patient was never going to react to her normal methods. Emily sat primly on the edge of her seat, looking nervous. Slouching back in her seat, Lily had an idea. She dropped her normal, professional look.

"How old are you?" Emily was startled. Lily had never asked her anything of the sort. She always tried to ask questions that required her to think, not something simple like 'how old are you?'

"I…I'm 19." Lily nodded. She knew this of course; personal details were all on file. She stood up, walking around to the other side of the desk. Emily moved her seat further away. It was unlike anything Lily had done before.

"I'm going to tell you a story. About when I was nineteen."

OoO

I hurried along the corridor, a stack of books in my hands. It was late and hardly anyone was about. I wanted to get to the library to return the books before it closed. The local library had been my favourite place when I was little. I would sit there for hours, pouring over brightly coloured picture books, damp text books with their pages worn from wear, and thick, musty-smelling old poetry anthologies. To me, it was a whole new world, with adventures lurking around every corner. Talking beasts, witches and wizards, memories from POW camps, tales from far distant lands, information about every animal possible, stories of hardship and luck, and imagination. Sometimes I would just sit there, and imagine that I was an author and that I was the one reading aloud bits of my story to crowds of open mouthed children. When I went to school I forgot about it. I guess I then had my own other world to escape into. I found it again, two days before my birthday.

When I graduated, I was immediately accepted in to training. I began right after school. For a year I lived away from home. I was staying with a couple of friends, all doing the same, or similar courses as me. During my second year of study, I took two weeks off around my birthday, calling my stunned parents to inform them that I would be staying with them for a while. They were thrilled to say the least, for me to return and spend two weeks with them, after not seeing them for almost two and a half years. I think they had begun to believe that I would never come back.

OoO

She paused, smiling, remembering her parents' astonishment and pleasure at her announcement. And the party…

OoO

I walked the familiar path to the door. Nothing much had changed, the flowers were still neatly tended, pruned perfectly and flourishing. My mother, an avid gardener, spent all the time she could spare in it, singing softly to herself and the plants, her touch coaxing even the most difficult flowers to grow into beautiful plants. Placing my bag down, I knocked cautiously on the door. Waiting, I listened for the tell-tale footsteps- the light 'fairy' ones of my mother, the heavy, thudding ones of my father. 'Elephant' steps I used to call them. I would tease him about it. "Elephant steps!" I would cry, "Elephant!" He would pick me up and spin me around, laughing. The door opened. "Dad!" I screamed ecstatically, jumping into him open arms. He spun me around again, like when I was little.

"Caught you by surprise hey? Didn't hear the elephant steps… I've been practicing see. Listen" He put me down, walking along the floor, making only the slightest noise. I laughed.

"They're still elephant steps. You look like you're an elephant trying not to step on a mouse!" And it was true, he hadn't started taking smaller steps or changed his step style in any way- all he was doing was stopping just before his foot hit the ground, and placing it down carefully. It took him a lot longer to cross the floor than it would normally, and by the time he was about half way across, I was in fits of hysteria by the door. "Ma!" I shrieked, running across the hall, carefully avoiding Dad who was still demonstrating his new, improved walk, and hugging her tight.

"Baby," she whispered, "I missed you so much." Letting go she beamed. "Dinner? You must be starving. Come into the dining room. Come, come. Peter! Stop doing that idiotic step, come on." She hurried us into the dining room, turning on the lights. I gasped. The table was covered in all my favourite foods- roast chicken and lamb, barbequed sausages, cannelloni, pasta, mum's homemade pizza, corn, peas, beans, salads, potatoes, and a whole array of other delights. It was a strange mix, but I loved it. And for dessert there was jelly and ice-cream, cake and chocolate mousse. Mum poured me a cup of coffee and Dad uncorked a bottle of champagne.

"What? She's of age" he said in reply to my mother's indignant stare.

"Well, I guess it is a celebration," she sighed, "But don't think we are encouraging you drinking." I smiled, and Dad winked at me.

After dinner, some of my old friends who lived around the area came over and we had a good time catching up on all the news. So and so was going to university, thingy had run away with her neighbour, someone else was pregnant. That kind of stuff.

I spent the next few days catching up with people and being stuffed with food and doted on by my parents. A few days before my birthday I went walking around, exploring my old home town. Walking through an over grown path, I found the old community centre. The fountain in front no longer flowed with the same glamour as it once did. Instead of sprouting out of the top and falling down in a graceful arc, water trickled out and slid down the face of the now grey-green statue. It had once been white marble, glossy and attractive. Now it was repulsive. I walked over the cracked footpath, riddled with weeds bursting forth from the cracks, towards the old building. Vandalism and graffiti had left its mark on it; slogans in brightly coloured spray paint tortured the outside of it. Pushing open the door, I walked down the dingy path too the old library. The once warm and bright building, that used to emit friendly vibes felt cold and unwelcoming. The coloured pictures on the walls advertising new books and the children's artwork had been replaced with drapes of dark coloured fabric. All the curtains were closed. It was as if the library was mourning something. I felt something foreboding about this new look, but pushed it to the back of my mind and entered the room anyway. The friendly ladies who used to give me sweets to suck on as I poured my way through the children's section had left, and were replaced by young men who hushed you in a menacing way if you looked as if you were about to speak. They looked as if they would murder me if I had walking in there for no purpose, so I walked over to the adult section, and choose a few books without really thinking about it. I took them over to the counter, searching in my pocket for my old library card. He scanned it without speaking. "Due back in two days." I nodded, scared to speak, hurriedly grabbing my books and taking my departure.

And so, on my nineteenth birthday I was hurrying down a corridor to return the books before they were overdue. I almost ran into the library with the books, and hastily put them on the counter. The man fixed me with his cold gaze. "Don't. Run."

I stopped in the courtyard and sat down on the wall around the water in the bottom of the fountain. Just like the rest of the statue, age and neglect had taken it toll, but suddenly I was six again, walking around on the edge of it on my way to get out another book.

A rustle in the leaves broke my dreams. I stood up suddenly, removing my fingers from the water and wiping them on my jeans. A man stood in the courtyard near me. In the faint light I could make out his features.

"Luke?"

OoO

A knock on the door broke her story. She jumped and looked down at her watch and started. "I'm so sorry Emily. I kept you too long." Her professional attitude was back, "I'll see you again the same time next week." Emily stood up silently and walked to the door as Lily sat herself down in her chair and tried to recompose herself for her next patient.

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A/N: So, what do you think of it? There's a very easy way to let me know, and all it involves is clicking a little button. You know you want to… :D


	2. Chapter 2

Mission Status: Impossible.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Or at least- if you recognise something, then I don't own it. If you don't recognise something, then I could possibly own it. If you find something or someone that reminds you of yourself, or your best friend/dog/cat/fish/mouse/aunt /mother/father/little sister/older brother/pet elephant in the back yard/Great Uncle Albert/elderly next-door-neighbour/great-great-great-great grandmother or niece, then I'm sorry. I'm sure it is purely coincidental, unless I know them, in which case it may not be. And please, do tell me if you have a pet elephant in the backyard so that I can come and steal it. Or a crocodile. I like crocodiles. Alligators will do fine also.

---

A/N: Before I begin to even write this chapter I must put in a note clearing up my fairly large oversight of appearing to kill of two characters at the beginning of the story and then bring them back to life 14 years later. I discovered this last night while thinking about life, the universe and everything (which at this point in time revolves around the story). And then I pondered on all the possible reasons why I could have done that (eg. Her parents didn't _really_ die at the beginning, or they weren't _really_ alive at the end, or she discovered some amazing technique to get them back to life….) and then I remembered. The 'parents' that she visits at the end of the chapter are, unfortunately for her, not her real parents. When they died, this couple took in Lily and her sister, and treated them like their own children. Apart from her temporary lapse on her 15th birthday when she discovered that they weren't actually her parents, she has treated them like her parents, and loved them like her parents, and so she calls them her parents. But they are actually her foster parents which is why they are alive.

And who is Luke? Good question. I didn't know myself until I wrote this chapter, but I'm sure he will play his part in the forthcoming story.

And Liam? Is Lily's boyfriend. Which puts James? Out of the picture for now….

And when will the last chapter actually be edited and proof-read and fixed up? When I get off my lazy arse and around to it…which will most likely be soon.

And I think that clears up all that needs to be cleared up so far… and onto the story, chapter two.

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Mission Status: Impossible.  
Chapter 2- I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all

"Afternoon, Lily."

"Afternoon, Pat," the man behind the counter smiled at her, "And how are you today?"

"I'm well thanks. And you?"

"Yeah, alright," she replied, calling over her shoulder as she walked over to the corner of the room. "I'm seeing Emily again today. Can you shred these for me?" she asked placing a thick file on his desk.

"'Course. How's she going?" Lily slumped down in a chair, her head resting in her hands.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. She lifted her head, and looked into his eyes. Pat was put out; Lily had never shown weakness before, or tiredness. But she was sitting her in front of him, looking as if she was on the brink of tears. He reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll do great," he reassured, "you're the best in this business. She'll come out of her shell in the end and you'll be there to help her up when she does."

"Hey Emily." She waited for the reply that she knew wouldn't come. Emily spoke when she was ready, not when she was asked. "How are you?" She merely shrugged one shoulder.

"I got a new fish."

"That's nice. Do you like this one?"

"No."

She sighed. Leaning against the window frame, she stared out onto the street. People hurried along, heads bent, not noticing each other. Not noticing the world around them. "It's going to rain. It's going to rain, and everyone is going to complain- that their washing is not going to get dry, that they will get wet when they leave their offices, that their cars will have to be washed. And then it will stop raining and everyone will find something new to complain about. It's an endless cycle." She paused, silently observing everyone below her.

"Lily?" Emily tentatively began, "Uh, could, er…" she faded out, leaving the rest of her thought unspoken. Lily snapped around.

"Yes?"

"Could, could you continue? With, uh, with what you were, I mean, uh, you know the, well, er, the story?"

"Where was I?"

"Luke."

"Oh yes. Luke."

OoO

I rushed home, and burst in the front door. I stopped, stunned by the balloons and streamers everywhere. The room was filled with people. Friends, neighbours, relatives, all there to wish me a happy birthday. I stared around at them accusingly. "You didn't tell me Luke was back." I said it as if it didn't mean a thing to me, but I was hurting. I was burning that they told me every little bit of gossip about every person in the town, except the one piece that mattered. Except that Luke had come back.

OoO

"This isn't going to work unless you know who Luke was. Is." Emily shrugged.

"Then tell me," she merely said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Lily sighed.

"It's more difficult than that. He's…complicated."

"Try."

"He…he was at school with me. Older though, two years older. His parents were both lawyers, good ones. Brilliant ones in fact. Luke- he was very smart. But not the top of his class. He, he spent more time interesting girls than doing homework. He was close to the top in all his classes, but not the top in any. He was... the type of guy that parents would pick up small children around. He would have never hurt anyone, at least not intentionally, not at first; he just had a, well, a reputation. He was polite, charming even, but only if it would benefit him. But he was…" she sighed, "This isn't working."

"Keep going a little more. Please?"

"He was kind of a bit of a rebel. If he was told he couldn't do something, he would do his best to achieve it. If he was told that he wasn't allowed to do something, he would want to know why. And if it wasn't a good enough reason, he would go off and do it. He never did anything dangerous as such. And he would have never led any other children into danger, but he got close. He would push people to their limits, but he would always know when to stop. Sometimes he would toe the line, but he would never step over it. Which is why it was such a surprise when he did it."

"Did what?"

"Drugs. The drugs caused him to do it. People talked, saying that they knew it would happen, but no one really did. Everyone was surprised. The boy who always knew when to stop, had impeccable self control had just…" she faded off; taking a few deep breathes before beginning again. "His father was always pushing him. He always wanted him to be better, to behave better, to get better grades. He would do anything. He wanted the perfect student. He used to lock Luke in his room and not allow him out until he had done his homework. He was so mad the day he discovered that Luke had been climbing out the window. And then one day, Luke finally cracked. For a year he was just, just terrible." She spun her chair around so she was facing a wall. "Then he started coming to classes again. He started receiving awards for doing well in class. He had new friends. Older than him again, but different. He was permanently attached to his guitar. Almost two years after he started doing drugs he stopped. About six months after that he ran away with his band. He used to play the kit. 'Bash the skins' as he would say. He was 15."

"Did you know him well?" It was a simple question, but took her a long time to answer. Eventually she turned her chair around to look Emily in the face.

"Very well. He was my best friend."

"What happened that night?"

OoO

"Lil." The first thing I noticed was that his voice had deepened. He was taller too, and more muscular.

"You're back." He laughed at my obvious lack of conversation ideas.

"That I am," the smile dropped off his face, and he was perfectly serious again. "It's been a long time."

"Four years. Four years and a day."

"You've changed."

"So have you." It was awkward. Too formal. Too polite. We knew each other too well for this.

"What are you doing now?"

"I'm training to be a psychiatrist." I could barely get the words out. My mouth was parched, my voice raspy. "How…how's the band going?" Before the words were out, I knew what the answer would be. I just felt obligated to continue the conversation.

"Alright. We're taking a break."

"When did you get back?" I gave up trying to make conversation, and just asked what was on my mind. He knew me well enough not to take it as rudeness.

"About a year ago."

"You didn't contact me."

"I tried." It satisfied me for a bit. I knew it was a lie, but I pretended to accept it anyway. Oh, I wished it was true. He took a step towards me. For a moment, I felt like turning and running.

"How a…are you?" He was still walking towards me.

"My father died." He spat out the word father.

"Is that why you came back?" I knew it wasn't. He wouldn't have cared that much. I just wanted the conversation to stay on him.

"You know the answer." He smirked. He knew, he could always tell exactly what I was thinking. "It will come around to you eventually. But you were never scared of conversation before. You must have ulterior motives. You want to find out something. How he died perhaps? But you wouldn't care. Why I came back? Hmm… is that what you want to know? Ask, Lily. There's nothing stopping you." He was close to me now. About three steps away. I moved back a little.

"Luke," I murmured, a hint of pleading in my tone. His voice softened.

"I missed you Lil'." He had been trying to catch my gaze for the entire discussion- the exact thing I had been avoiding. At that point I looked him in the eye.

"I missed you too." We stood still for a little while, just looking at each other. He took another step closer. I looked away. "I…I've got to go." I walked away, as fast as I could. I heard him calling me back, but I ignored him. He grabbed my wrist, and I turned around, prepared to scream at him for touching me. The words were on my lips, my mouth was open, but there was something in the look on his face that prevented me from getting them out. I just stood there, staring at him with my mouth open. "Happy Birthday Lily" he whispered, kissing me on the cheek. He turned and walked away, not looking back. I took it as my cue to go, and headed back home.

I stood there, staring around at everyone, demanding answers. No one caught my eye. There was some reason that they had kept it from me, it was impossible for them _all_ to forget. They look around at each other, at their hands, the floor, everything but me. I softened my voice, "Mum?"

"We thought it would be better if we didn't tell you he was back. We only did what we thought was best. Just, just put it aside for now. Enjoy the party. It's your birthday. Have fun." Her eyes were filling with tears. I nodded- what else could I do? I spent the rest of the night pretending to have fun along with everyone else. Mercifully, everyone left early from the party, claiming fatigue.

That night I cried. I cried for my party, which I had ruined. I cried for my friends, neighbours and relative I had ruined it for. I cried for my parents. They had put so much effort in, and it had all gone to waste. I cried for my real parents. If they hadn't died, would I still be so fucked up? I cried for my friends from training. I missed them so much. I cried for my friends from Hogwarts- I hadn't seen them since I graduated. Did they still remember me? Did I still remember them? I cried for my ex-boyfriend. He was a prick, but I needed someone else to add onto the list. I cried for his friends. We had gotten on alright, but when we broke up, they had done the honorable thing and stuck with him. We promise to keep in touch after school, but that all fell through. I cried for Luke's dad. I never liked him much, but it seemed an appropriate thing. I cried for Luke. And I cried for me. Since when had we become like that? How had we lost the trust? I knew everything about him. I had seen him at his worst. I had spent countless nights with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid, talking to him, comforting him. And now we couldn't even have a proper conversation. I cried for the life I once led.

OoO

"That's not all there is to the story is it?"

"If you're referring to the story about my nineteenth birthday, then yes, that is the end. But if you're referring to my relationship with Luke, and what happened on the days after my birthday, then no, you're right. There's more to it. But the rest…isn't…" she stopped, searching for a word… "important." It was a lie, she knew, but it would do. "I will tell you another story though. A different one. About when I was 11."

OoO

"Lil? Lily? There's a letter for you!" I heard my mother calling through the house.

"Coming!" I cried back. I ran a brush through my hair quickly, and straightened up my top. "Yeah?" I breathed, skidding to a stop in front of her.

"Letter" she said briskly, giving me a thick envelope, made of heavy parchment. It was addressed to me in green ink. Like every child, I loved getting mail. I still do. Excitedly I ripped the envelope open, savouring the feeling of having a letter addressed to me. I could hardly contain my curiosity as I pulled out the papers.

" 'Dear Miss Evans,'" I read, " 'We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…' Mum? What is this?" My mum, dad and I sat down and read the letter over at least three times. My dad was sitting there, muttering the words "Witchcraft and wizardry" over and over again under his breath. My mum was pondering over what "…we await your owl…" could mean. I was sitting trying to work out which friend would have pulled this prank. Our thoughts were all disrupted by a knock on the door.

"Go and open it dear," prompted my mother, distracted. Standing on the doorstep was the oddest looking man I had ever seen. He was very tall, and dressed in ankle length robes in a startling bright pink. His long white hair reached the small of his back and his beard was equally long. His half moon glasses rested on the end of his rather long, crooked nose. Balancing on top of it all was a tall, pointed hat. "Good afternoon," he stated, smiling slightly. His blue eyes were sparkling. "May I come in?" I was unsure as to what I should say. Here on the door step was a strange man I had never seen before who was asking to come in. He looked kind, and I wanted to trust him, but I had been drilled on the 'stranger danger'. I hesitated. He crouched down so he could look me in the eye. "I'm here to explain to you the letter you received today." I let him in.

"Lily," reprimanded my mum, "Who is this man?" Before I could answer, the man cut in on me.

"I'm so sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He explained to us about witches, wizards, the magical community, Hogwarts, and anything else we could possibly want to know. I remember asking him one last question, "Does this mean I can do magic?" He laughed and patted me on the head. "I'll see you on September the 1st."

For the rest of that day, and most of the night too, I jumped around. I was so excited I couldn't keep it in. my parents went around completing the necessary, boring tasks such as calling the school to terminate my enrollment, and making up stories as to what school I was going to. I just made a list of all the things I could do once I was trained to be a witch.

Turn Miss Withers's hair purple.

Make myself fly.

Turn all the bullies at my school into bugs.

Make it so I never have to clean up again.

Magic myself an eternal supply of chocolate.

I was simply an over excited 11 year old, who was just told she was a witch.

On the 1st of September, I arrived on time. Once again, I was overly animated, while my parents were overly apprehensive. "Oh, Peter," worried my mother, "Oh, do you really think this is a good idea?" My dad tried (and failed) to calm her down.

"Don't worry. She'll be right. It's only a year." After a lot of hugs, kisses and promises to keep in touch, I headed towards the barrier.

"It's quite simple," Dumbledore had explained, "All you have to do is walk into the barrier. You feel like you are going to crash into it, but it hardly ever happens. Take it at a run."

"What happens if I do crash into it?" I had asked.

"Well," he had begun, "Best cross that obstacle once you get to it. And if you do."

Shaking, I began a slow run, pushing my heavy wooden truck on a trolley. I closed my eyes, expecting a loud crash when I collided with the solid, metal barrier, but none came. I opened my eyes and found myself standing on a platform, surrounded by students, some in normal clothes (what Dumbledore referred to as 'muggle attire') and some dressed in the standard black school robes, identical to the pair I had folded in my trunk. At the sight of the scarlet train with the words 'Hogwarts Express' emblazoned on them made my heart leap, and all the previous doubts I felt, suddenly disappeared. At that moment, for some reason, I felt completely at home.

OoO

Lily beamed at the person sitting in front of her. "Hogwarts was always home for me." Emily dropped her head, looking at her hands, secretly smiling a little. She too remembered her Hogwarts days well. "Well," began Lily, "I guess that's all for today. Same time next week, okay?" Emily nodded, and walked herself out.

---

A/N: It's hot. It's humid. It's raining. It's summer! It's not meant to rain! And definitely not for 7 hours continuously. It's Perth. It's not meant to rain for 7 hours continuously at all! It's the tail of the cyclone that went through up north. But then again, the only reason that I wrote this is because it was raining…

I don't like this chapter much. Maybe its just because I'm in a bad mood because I have a fucking mosquito bite on my leg that has impressively swelled to the size of a…uh… something between a golf ball and a tennis ball. And it hurts.


	3. Chapter 3

Mission Status: Impossible.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

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A/N: Oh my gosh…. I'm sorry? I've kinda been busy with school and stuff, and I should have written during the holidays, but I didn't because… I'm lazy and bad at committing to things and a bad author. And recently life has sucked. Majorly. accepts rotten fruit thrown at her graciously I deserve it. I know.

---

Mission Status: Impossible.  
Chapter 3- I'm addictive

The smoke and smell of alcohol hung thickly in the air. Bodies seemed to mesh together to the beat of the music pumping through the speakers. Boys with girls, boys with boys, girls with girls, groups, individuals, it didn't matter. There was something uniting about the music that night, it called people together, urging them to dance, to move, to loose themselves to the music. It called- they answered.

OoO

"Come with me tonight, please?"

"I don't know. They are your friends not mine…"

"You're my friend too, you'll get along just fine. If you don't like them, you can just leave. Please come?" I begged. Caitlyn was reluctant- clubbing was _not _her idea of fun. I had gathered up some of my old school friends and organized us to go out for drinks together. After organizing and convincing them all to come, I had a panic attack- what if they had all changed? It had been years. What if I didn't like them any more? What if they didn't like me anymore? And so I was left in the position of begging some of my co-workers to come with me and keep me company if the whole reunion thing didn't work out.

"I won't know any of them… I didn't go to Hogwarts, I won't be able to share stories with you…"

"Saskia will be there too. You won't be alone. Please, I'm begging you."

"I'll feel like I'm barging in on a reunion" she tried, one last time.

"That's exactly what you will be doing" I replied seriously, "but no; I want you to be there. And the rest of them, well, if they don't like you, then they can just fuck themselves." She sighed, defeated. I grinned. "I'll pick you up around 7 okay?"

OoO

They sat at the bar, all talking. They were reminiscing about Hogwarts- telling the other two about things that had happened, things they had done. "Let's dance," suggested one, standing up abruptly. She reached out for the hand of another girl and led her over to where the people were dancing. They danced, Jo's body moving smoothly, slipping into the groove as if it had been rehearsed. Amy moved more awkwardly, as if her body didn't fully want to co-operate with her. Slowly the other girls joined them, mixing into the crowd, integrating with other groups, making their way towards the front.

The music coursed through them, as if it was an illegal drug, intoxicating, controlling, dominating the crowd, calling them into its power. Addictive.

Addictive. The word seared through her mind. Addictive. Addictive. Addictive. It was how he'd described himself, how their relationship would be.

OoO

"C'mon Lil, please, you know you want to…" I paused, half turned from him, anger flaring up.

"Excuse me?" I asked, clenching my fists in frustration, "What did you just say?"

"You know that you want to say yes. Why don't you just say it?" He was walking closer to me, closer than he should be. "Why don't you just live a little?" He was far to close now. I could see every drop of water still clinging to his hair and face from when I pushed him into the lake. I could see the little specks of seaweed still caught in his eyebrow.

"Live, who says I don't live?"

"I do, my fair lady."

"And on what grounds do you make that assumption?"

"Because, my dearest, if you lived, you would not be able to resist my charm. In fact, I am forced to assume that you not only fail to live, you also fail to see, because if you could see, you would not be able to resist my good looks."

"Oh really now? And would you like to know what I think?" Not waiting for an answer, I continued. "I am forced to assume that you, my 'dear', fail to have a brain. And why do I make this assumption? Because if you had a brain you would have realized by now that I simply do not like you. I am not blind, I do live, I just have common sense and that leads me to stay as far away from you as possible." He showed no sign that I had said anything more cutting than "nice shoes", and instead moved closer, wrapping an arm around my waist and whispering in my ear.

"One day you'll regret that comment. One day you'll come to me. And then you'll realize that what I've been saying is true. One day you'll realize that a relationship between us would be amazing. Explosive, yes, but addictive. And you know why? Because of me, my dear. Because I'm addictive. And one day you'll find that out."

He jerked backwards, the red outline of my hand fast appearing on his cheek. "Potter, you are not 'addictive'. You are simply infuriating."

Back in my room, I lay on my bed, his words running through my mind. Addictive. Addictive. Not, not addictive. Infuriating. I rolled over and went to sleep.

OoO

"Addictive" she murmured, half awake.

"Uh, Lily?" The voice was timid, as if she were afraid of saying something wrong. Lily started awake.

"Emily, I'm so sorry. I had a late night last night. A few friends and I went….out. I hadn't seen them in a long time. I'm sorry." She was back to her professional attitude. "How are you? How are you feeling today?" Emily merely shrugged.

"I'm alright. I painted a picture last night. It was pretty dreadful." Lily laughed a little, holding back a yawn.

"I haven't painted in ages." She paused, thinking. "You know what? I'm really tired, and I really don't want to think right now, so do you mind if I just run down to the children's ward and grab some paper and paints, and maybe we could paint together today? Would that be alright?" Emily shrugged again.

She returned quickly carrying multiple sheets of butcher's paper and a few pots of brightly coloured, washable paint. Lying out the sheets, and lining up the paint pots, Lily grabbed a brush. Coating it in blue paint, she paused.

"What should I paint?"

"A tree," Emily said decisively. Lily laughed,

"But I have blue paint! A tree can't be blue!"

"Why not?"

"I don't know…" she paused. "Why not? Okay, I'll paint a blue tree! What are you going to paint?"

"A picture!" Lily laughed again.

"A picture of what?"

"A picture of the night." Lily froze. "What?"

"I once painted a picture of the night. A long, long time ago."

"Why?"

"I was…. in an art class. I was very little."

"How little?"

"About 8. No, not 8. Luke was 11, so I must have been 9."

"Was, was Luke in the class with you?" Lily smiled, remembering.

"No, but we talked about him often."

OoO

"What are you going to paint?"

"A cat."

"What cat?"

"My cat."

"You don't have a cat."

"Yes I do!"

"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to her."

"Oh. But she has a cat."

"No she doesn't, I've been to her house. She has a fish. Why would she have a cat if she has fish?"

"Maybe she doesn't like the fish."

"Maybe the cat doesn't like fish."

"Yeah, maybe she has a vegetarian cat!"

"There's lots of reasons."

"Yeah, and maybe she doesn't have a cat!"

"Why would I say that I had a cat if I didn't?"

"Exactly."

"Yeah, why would she?"

"Uh…."

"That doesn't look much like a cat."

"See, if she did have a cat, she'd know what one looks like."

"Enough." The supervisor was always there to break it up when we got 'too noisy'. Or when we started arguing about stupid things.

"What are you painting Lil?"

"Night."

"Not time for bed yet."

"Um… I know that."

"Then why did you say 'good night'?"

"I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No I didn…."

"Enough." She was really starting to get annoyed.

"You still haven't told me what you're going to paint Lil. Are you trying to hide it from me?"

"No, why would I try to hide it from you?"

"You might be afraid that I'll copy."

"Why would I care?"

"Well mine might be better than yours?"

"Who says it would be?"

"I don't know. I was just saying. What are you painting by the way?"

"The night."

"Oh, is that what you meant earlier?"

"What are you talking about? I'm painting the night sky."

"How are you going to paint it?"

"How am I going to do what?"

"Paint it?"

"With paints….."

"But how do you know what it looks like?"

"How do I what?"

"What it looks like?"

"What what looks like?"

"The sky, Lil, how are you going to paint it if you don't know what it looks like?"

"Well why would I not know what it looks like?"

"Because it's night."

"So…?"

"Well have you ever seen the sky at night?"

"What kind of question is that, Jess?"

"I was just asking."

"Yes, Jess, I have seen the sky at night. I am a normal person and I do look out my window."

"There's no need to answer like that."

"Well if you didn't continually ask me stupid questions, I wouldn't have to answer like that."

"They weren't stupid."

"Were."

"Weren't."

"Were."

"Weren't"

"Were"

"ENOUGH. Paint. Now. Silently." I turned to look at Jess as soon as the supervisor's back was turned. She poked out her tongue at me. I giggled slightly, and poked mine out too, and continued working on my painting.

I had just finished all the stars when a soft voice whispered 'boo' into my ear.

"Jess!"

"Shh…"

"Jess, you nearly made me ruin my picture…."

"An extra star won't hurt. Guess what happened yesterday?" I hated not going to school with Jess. Supposably best friends for life, we would always be together. We'd promised each other that when we were five and 'life' meant the next 12 minutes, but at the same time, we weren't going well on the 'together forever' bit if we couldn't even convince our parents to send us to the same primary schools.

"What?"

"I got home from school and I was really hungry, so mum said I could bake a cake. It turned out really nice, I brought you a piece if you want to try. It's chocolate chip and I made it from the recipe from the newspaper. Of course, I had to change it a little," she lowered her voice to a whisper as if telling a great secret, "The original has whiskey in it! But anyway, my mum was helping me a little, and then we found out that there were no eggs, which was weird because we always have eggs. You know how we always have eggs right…."

"Hurry up with the actual story Jess."

"Well, I was riding to the deli to buy some. Cinty was with me. And, well, she fell off her bike. It wasn't my fault, I swear. I had to swerve in front of her. Otherwise I would have hit the tree. But don't tell mum that, she thinks that she hit a bump. Well anyway. She fell off, and you know how five year olds are. She cried and screamed. But then guess who was walking past?"

"Who?"

"Luke!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! And he stopped to help Cinty!"

"And...?"

"And... he asked me how I was. And I said fine, and then he said he had to run."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, why are you so interested?"

"No reason."

"Lily..."

"Yes...?"

"Jessica. Lily. Finish your paintings." For once, I was glad to hear the supervisor's voice cutting in on what could have been an incredibly embarrassing conversation.

OoO

"You had a thing for Luke when you were 9?"

"Hey, I resent that comment. I had no 'thing' for Luke when I was 9. I hardly knew him. I don't know if I would have been particularly opposed to getting to know him better... but the thing is that there was no 'thing' for Luke when I was 9."

"So no 'thing' for Luke ever?" Emily looked slightly disappointed.

"Now, I never said that. Just no 'thing' for Luke when I was 9. 9 is much to young to have a crush." She seemed to light up a little at that comment.

"Then why were you so interested?"

"I...admired the boy. More than I should have possibly, but still. He was smart. I aspired to be like him maybe..." Feeling a little awkward, Lily hastened to change the topic. "How about I tell you about Jess. She had an adorable little sister, Jacinta. Cinty."

"Fine. Tell me about Jess, this best friend when you were 3. But don't think you can escape talking about you little thing for Luke that easily." Lily laughed out loud.

"Wow, you really sounded like Jess just then! Jess was my best friend, but we often didn't seem like it. We argued constantly, and usually about very silly, very immature things. 'Terms of endearment' people called it. It was the way we showed each other our love. Upon being informed of this, Jess and I turned to each other and immediately said 'ew', before being another dispute of sorts over who had stolen that phrase from another. We had, uh, a 'unique' relationship, I guess you could say. She was older than me, but only by a little. One month, 14 days and two hours. She'd counted, I'd counted, we'd made our parents count. I tried to change my birth date so that I'd be older, but my parents didn't approve."

"Why did being older matter?"

"Oh, it didn't. Except, of course, when we got into dispute about who was right. She'd always say 'I'm older. I therefore know more. The end.' I just dearly wanted to be able to say that once.

"One summer, we must have been about seven, our families decided to go down to the beach. We were both building sand castles and a boy, he must have been about 6 but he looked little to us, came up and asked us..."

"Lily?" she started, awoken from her reminiscing about the past.

"Yes?" She turned to look in the doorway, where a co-worker stood in uniform. "What is it Pat?"

"Is it of vital importance that you stay here?"

"Is it of vital importance that I go?"

"There's an emergency."

"Then I can wind up." She turned back to Emily. "I'm so sorry, I'm being called away by a nasty man in uniform. Can I call you to reschedule?" Emily nodded. "Okay then, I'll speak to you soon." Pat waited patiently until the lock clicked, and then began leading Lily hurriedly away from her office.

"I'll brief you while we're walking. There's no time to spare."

"It's that much of a hurry? Why didn't you say? I would have... I don't know. Moved faster maybe?" He turned to look at her, slowing their pace.

"Suicide attempt. " She understood immediately. A forbidden topic around depression patients. Picking up the urgency in his footsteps, they moved quickly to the emergency department.

"How?"

"Wrists. Object unknown."

"Oh."

"Okay, she's 24, medical examination has discovered a few bruises on her face and thigh, that's all."

"Brought in by...?"

"Friend. Same age. Dropped by to see how she was doing. Found her nearly passed out in the bathroom."

"Anything else? Any possible reasons?" He turned and smiled at her.

"That's your job." Handing her gloves and a coat, he whispered "Good luck", and pushed her in the door.

Less than 10 minutes later she reappeared. "Passed out- blood loss. Once the doctors have finished I'll stay with her until she wakes up. Where's the friend?"

"Around the corner."

"I'd best go see her."

"Okay. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Rolling the gloves off, Lily stopped to check her hair in the mirror. She tucked away any stray bits and straightened her badge, this was not her favourite part of the job. There would be tears, guilt and 'if only I hadn't told her she was a bitch back when we were 17's. She took a deep breath and walked around the corner.

'Mel?'

---

A/N: Once again, I'm sorry. It took me too long to write this. Actually, to be honest, I wrote this ages ago, it took me too long to update this. Kill me?

In other news, I have a two hour theory exam tomorrow evening, then I'm back on my way to becoming a swimming teacher. How exciting! Not!


End file.
